At least in theory.
A few days ago, my boss informed all of the American teachers at work that we were, under no circumstance, to speak about religion in the classroom.
According to Moroccan law, we are allowed to answer questions about our own faith but nothing more. Anything more might be considered proselytizing. Of course, that's our religion; we regularly talk about Islam. Any issue that motivates students to speak in English and exchange opinions is useful for language learning, and Moroccan students tend to have very strong opinions about Islam, particularly its role in modern life.
This new rule goes above and beyond what is required by law, and it takes away a useful tool that we teachers have as we try to motivate students to speak in English.
My personal goals teaching in Morocco are quite different from this imposing task.
These were my ideals in teaching: improve English ability, promote critical thinking, explain the West, and enable students to engage it. And yet, although I have stayed well within the law and the rules of my workplace, I still have a nagging fear that I too could be deported. Perhaps, it is a misplaced fear. But when power is exercised as arbitrarily as it is here in Morocco, one cannot know whether fear is properly placed or not.
So why is it necessary?
The immediate cause of our new self-censorship rule was the arrest and deportation of a Canadian couple who had lived in Meknes for the past decade. I know nothing about them except that they owned a bookstore and were accused of proselytizing. It is likely that they were in fact in violation of the law about proselytizing. I do not know. But my boss had a passing acquaintance with them, and their deportation seems to have brought this crackdown a little closer to home for her. She has enough on her plate to have to worry about new personnel and legal issues.
Now, let's keep in mind what an English teacher would really be up against if he or she even tried to proselytize. Even if a Christian teacher tried to "shake the faith" of his or her Muslim students during one of our typical 30-hour English courses, it is extremely unlikely that he or she would have any success countering the 1000's of hours of Islamic Education required of all Moroccans before they leave school.
My personal goals teaching in Morocco are quite different from this imposing task.
The main reason I feel good about my job as an English teacher (compared with all the other unethical, societally unhelpful jobs out there) is that by helping Moroccans learn English, I am better preparing them for the challenges of globalization. It enables them to function in new situations almost wherever they go and whatever they do. And, as a well-educated native speaker of the language, I am in a unique position to help them.
But another, only slightly less important reason that I teach is that I desire to promote cultural dialogue. I firmly believe that ongoing cultural discussion is absolutely necessary if we want to avoid future violent conflict. Unfortunately, Americans have by and large decided that they are not going to learn other languages, and large numbers of them seem unconcerned by anything happening outside their borders. So the bulk of the responsibility now rests on natives of other countries, who must learn to express their religion, their culture, and their thoughts in the language of Hemingway.
Of course, in order for them to be able to convey their religion, culture, and thoughts in a way that a Westerner would understand, they must learn about the Western world. They must understand points of contact and points of divergence, similarities and differences. That involves both critical thinking skills about their own culture and knowledge about a foreign culture. I desire to promote both. Both are now severely handicapped by the current state of affairs.
On the content side of things, one of the most contentious (and yet one of the most important) issues in such ongoing dialogue is religion. The fact is the religions and the philosophies of the world disagree on fundamental issues; there is no getting around that. But, in an ideal world, we can learn about the other side and discuss those differences in openness and respect. People should be able to debate the divinity of Jesus, the prophethood of Mohammed, the textual transmission of scriptures, religious violence, and secularism. It will likely be heated, but it can still be respectful and based in true engagement with the truth of others' beliefs and practices.
I will be the first to say that Americans are certainly far from perfect; a better understanding of the Koran and the Muslim world would go a long way if we ever hope to seriously engage the Muslim world. But Moroccans also need to learn more about the Western world, its secular outlook as well as its religions, Christianity included.
There are impediments to respectful and thoughtful discussion on both sides. Of course, the fundamental difference is that in America the impediment is cultural, in Morocco it is legal.
These were my ideals in teaching: improve English ability, promote critical thinking, explain the West, and enable students to engage it. And yet, although I have stayed well within the law and the rules of my workplace, I still have a nagging fear that I too could be deported. Perhaps, it is a misplaced fear. But when power is exercised as arbitrarily as it is here in Morocco, one cannot know whether fear is properly placed or not.
I do know that in my writings and in my personal and professional life I have tried to promote the values that Muslim theologians expressed in the Common Word declaration:
So let our differences not cause hatred and strife between us. Let us vie with each other only in righteousness and good works. Let us respect each other, be fair, just and kind to another and live in sincere peace, harmony and mutual goodwill.
I only wish that the Moroccan government would do the same.
I express these sentiments on this blog in English to a Western audience. Currently in Morocco, there are obstacles that prevent me from living out these ideals that I would hope we could all share.
The joy of self-censorship is that you get to stay in the country. The agony of self-censorship is that you silently watch the cultural misunderstandings of yesterday run untouched into tomorrow.
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